


a grim(ms') fairytale

by cacowhistle



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: D&D AU, Sort Of, but not really bc its still set in the canon universe, it'll have ur standard d&d violence tbh, kind of a fantasy au??, lots of morally grey stuff with them, remus and deceit act like their canon selves, so be wary if that bothers u, so just keep that in mind!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacowhistle/pseuds/cacowhistle
Summary: Roman creates a fantasy world for his friends to enjoy, and is truly, truly thrilled to share it with them! Unfortunately for them, Remus seems to have different plans with the Imagination, and things don't quite go as planned for Roman.And, interestingly enough, they don't quite go as planned for Remus, either.





	1. Roman

**Author's Note:**

> this work is also posted on tumblr @ cacowhistle.tumblr.com. if you wanna be added to the taglist, just ask me there!

Don't let anyone say that Roman _didn't _have the best of intentions with this surprise.

He had great intentions! Really good ones! He didn't like unpleasant surprises - it was too Remus-like for his taste, and he knew damn well that any sort of unpleasant surprise would sit terribly with Virgil, who already hated Remus - he didn't need a reason to go back to being wary and hostile towards Roman, and acting anything like Remus was probably enough for that.

Not only that, but it would upset Patton, which was never good! They all hated it when Patton was upset - even Logan, though he wouldn't admit that it wasn't just for practical reasons.

And Logan would be disconcerted and more annoyed with Roman, and that just got irritating and frustrating and really, Roman would rather avoid it.

To be fair, it wasn't like Roman was really capable of _creating _such unpleasant things. As the lighter half of Creativity, he sort of… lacked the creative drive to create those sorts of things, while creating wondrous fantasy realms came to him as easily as breathing.

He wasn't too concerned about their reactions to this surprise. It was going to be great, he was sure.

He had meant for this to be an exciting adventure! He was genuinely excited to share this fantasy world he'd created with the others, after a couple of weeks of slaving away over the world and all of the characters within it. He'd had to enlist Remus' help to give all of the NPCs sentience, since one half of Creativity wouldn't be able to do it on his own, but together they'd managed it. Roman, of course, set aside a few NPCs for Remus to play with as a sort of payment. He… didn't want all of the NPCs to turn into terrifying, horrible things when Remus focused on them, so he'd had to sacrifice a few, but it had worked out nicely enough. It was a standard Dungeons & Dragons-esque fantasy world, and Roman had to say, he was quite proud of it.

He'd crafted things with the other sides especially in mind - a giant library in the capital and a vast solar system for Logan to enjoy, multiple bakeries and animal-themed gifts for Patton, dark and sinister aesthetics in some places for Virgil - along with the assurance that it was perfectly safe, and danger was practically nonexistent.

The other sides had enjoyed it! Virgil and Logan had both been intrigued, much to Roman's surprise - not that he was complaining_. _Patton loved it, though it was hard to expect Patton to hate much of anything, so…

Regardless, it was off to a good start! A great start! An absolutely fantastic, wonderful fantasy experience seemed to be ahead of them.

They had been having a good time, and then…

Roman isn't quite sure. All he knows is that it's horribly dark and cold now, and there's something living and breathing that smells of blood and rot in front of him, when just a moment ago he could've sworn he'd been walking with the others down the Millwalk, away from Caudilcor, and now…

He doesn't know where he is, and he doesn't know where any of the others are. Fear, icy and awful, crawls along his spine as whatever's in front of him moves, its breathing ragged and labored as if it were wounded.

Roman steps back, and there's the sound of a boot hitting stone. He pats his arms, surprised to find leather armor, and his hand travels to where the hilt of his sword usually is and-

He grips his blade with trembling hands, still staring ahead of him into the inky darkness. He's fought dragons before, this is nothing, he's the Gryffindor, the prince, the knight, he can do this. Maybe it's not even a threat, maybe he's just on edge after being thrown somewhere else, this is _fine. _He just has no idea what's happening, in a place where he's supposed to be aware of everything that's happening.

Is this Remus' doing? It certainly seems up his alley, throwing his brother into a cold, dark cellar, face to face with some awful monster. He swallows thickly, biting back any fear. If this is the Imagination, he has to still be in charge. He has to still have some sort of power, here. Right? At the very least, it won't let him die, or get too horribly injured. There can't be any real threat.

There's a guttural rasping noise that quickly distracts him, and an awful, grating voice sounds from the darkness, two red eyes blinking open and staring Roman down. He can practically see its grin split its face, in the faint light the eyes let off.

Only… after a moment, the dark lets up a bit, and suddenly things are easier to see. It's dim, but Roman can see, which would have been a relief if not for the horrible sight before him.

A large, worm-like creature with a human face stares him down, eyes glowing red, jagged yet still human teeth splitting its face in a terrible, bloody grin. Several arms protrude from its flesh in awkward, unnatural angles, pale and sickly looking. It strikes fear that Roman's never really felt before into his heart, and immediately he _knows _this has to be Remus' doing. This horrible creature… he wouldn't have been able to come up with this.

_"Creator."_

Roman's breath catches in his throat -_ he couldn't have made this_ \- and he continues to back away, drawing his sword and holding it in front of him. "What are you, you… you foul fiend?"

It laughs, a terrible noise, and the hair on the back of Roman's neck rises. He freezes as a finger, cold and clawed, trails along his spine, crawling up the back of his neck. Moving on autopilot, he swings his sword behind him, whirling to face the hand, throwing a panicked glance over his shoulder.

It laughs again, and then there's a hand pressing against the back of his neck and a burning pain overwhelms his senses. Roman lets out an agonized cry, stumbling forward, knees hitting the ground and sword clattering to the floor, the pain only getting worse and worse as he gasps for breath. He slumps forward, tears burning behind his eyes as he hits the ground, fingers curling into the stone floor as the pain overwhelms him, and Roman _screams, _a bloodcurdling sound that tears from his throat and leaves him gasping on the floor.

_"Go on, champion," _The voice sneers, and Roman can barely register the words through the haze of pain, _"show your friends just what this world can be."_

Roman awakes with a start, a dull ache in the back of his neck, soft daylight streaming in through the window, faced with a small medieval bedroom. A table stands in the corner with two wooden chairs on either side, along with a bedside table next to the bed. The bed itself is barely any good, with a wooden frame and a seemingly hay-stuffed mattress, the blankets a bit scratchy. He sits up, a twinge of pain running down his back from his neck, and one hand reaches up to rub the seemingly burn-scarred skin on the back of his neck.

_What, _he stares at the pack of his usual Imagination-adventuring gear strewn across the small table in the corner, _the Hell is going on?_

After he allows himself a brief moment of panic and freaking out, it doesn't take much time to put on his gear and get himself ready to go. Judging by a quick glance out the window, he's in Retilja, which means the capital is only a couple days' travel away. If the others have any common sense, they'll go there, too. He wants to find them as quickly as possible, leaving them alone and without guidance in this world probably isn't the best idea. Especially if they've also been downgraded to citizens - or, well, _adventurers, _Roman supposes. He can't help the small smile at the thought, though. The idea of the rest of them, especially no-nonsense, reality-loving Logan, thrown into a fantasy adventure is a bit amusing.

It's still annoying - and the… dream… vision… thing on the edge of his thoughts is still terrifying, but Roman isn't going to dwell on that. He's also pointedly ignoring the fact that something overrode his control over the Imagination.

He takes a deep breath, then pushes the door open and glances around. An empty hallway, lined by three other doors - one next to his, and two across the hall, and then what looks to be an office door at one end of the hall, and a staircase on the other end. Just a tavern, it seems.

He makes his way down the stairs, the main dining hall rather empty - it seems to be just after sunrise, so it's a bit strange that there's nobody running about down here. A young woman leans against the bar, flipping through a book, brown hair messily tied back in a haphazard bun, a stained apron thrown over her clothes. She looks… incredibly real, and sentient, and Roman can't help the thrill of pride in his chest. He _made _this.

"Can I help you?"

Roman is knocked out of his excited, prideful haze by the girl's voice, and he blinks a few times. "Er - not just yet, thank you. Actually-" he pauses, frowning slightly, "do you have coffee?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "We might. I'll go check."

"My sincerest gratitude." Roman grins, and the girl snorts as she turns and makes her way back into the kitchen.

Roman settles at a table by one of the windows, gazing out at the street outside. Not exactly bustling with activity, but still rather busy, with all sorts of people going back and forth. Rotilja isn't the biggest town, but he knows there are plenty of people and businesses. A farming town, mainly focuses on trade in and out of the Empire…

He's snapped out of that train of thought as the girl places a mug of coffee in front of him. "One gold."

"Oh!" He has to dig around to find the pouch filled with coins, but it's easy enough to figure out which is which. He hands her two gold coins. "Keep the change. Er - say, what's your name?"

She frowns at him. Roman manages a small smile, as thrown off as he is right now. 

"... Matilda." She finally says, rapping her knuckles against the table twice before saying, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thank you, Matilda. I appreciate it." He's still incredibly tired and confused and stressed, but the conversation has assured him that this is still a real thing happening. This isn't some illusion from Remus, this is still his world and the work of the Imagination. So at least he knows there isn't any real danger.

She merely nods and returns to the bar, going back to her reading, and Roman takes the next few minutes to go through his things and see what he has. A cloth backpack and a bedroll, an extra set of regular clothes (well, as regular as you can get in a medieval fantasy world), a… handaxe? He's not sure why he has that. A mess kit, painting supplies - he's excited about those - some rations, some rope, a tinderbox… a few other general adventuring things, it seems. And about… 20 gold pieces, about 30 silver pieces, and around 15 copper pieces. He has no idea if that's anywhere near enough to get by. The coffee had only been one gold piece, so… he's probably pretty well off. Hopefully everyone else is, too. He'd rather not have left them all stranded without money or any belongings at all.

But - if the same thing had happened to them, with that… that vision or dream or whatever it was...

He's starting to understand how Virgil can be so stressed all of the time.

"Okay," Roman mumbles to himself, taking a sip of not-great coffee, and gazing out the window once more, "this is fine."

Things seem to have quieted down outside, though Roman doesn't make any move to leave just yet.

"... this is fine," he mumbles again, gaze dropping to the mug in his hands.

After another few minutes of sitting in the tavern (the Tell-tale Inn, the sign out front says), Roman finally takes his leave, slinging his pack of adventuring gear over his shoulder and making sure he's got easy access to his sword. Just in case. He's still not sure what's going on, so it's probably better for him to be prepared.

Hopefully they were all dropped in the same area, it would make things so much easier. He starts searching by making his way into the center of town.

A gallows stands in the middle of the cobblestone square, a short, bearded man with pointed ears - a dwarf, probably - seemingly in the process of finishing setting it up, and Roman has to stop and look again.

That doesn't _seem _like something he would've let happen in one of his worlds. Roman frowns, snapping his fingers with the intent to get rid of the gallows and any intention to use them.

Nothing happens.

Roman's shoulders tense, and he takes a step back, still staring at the wooden structure and the noose hanging from it. That should have worked. He snaps his fingers again, focusing as much as he can on getting rid of the structure, and still… nothing.

_No, _he takes a deep breath, _no no no, we're not panicking yet._

This is fine! Maybe he's just worn out, after weeks of creating an entire world. He just needs some time to recharge. He's just tired, probably. He can at least scold Remus for adding this sort of thing to Roman's creation. He can make his own world if he wants to make things horrible and messed up. Roman would much rather avoid any executions, thank you very much.

He'll focus on finding the others first, and then they can figure out what's going on and get out of here. This doesn't seem like something he'll be able to do on his own, if there's something wrong with his powers.

Roman takes a deep breath, glancing around the town square.

This is going to take forever.

Elsewhere, Logan awakes with a start, a dull, throbbing ache in his leg and the thought that something has probably gone terribly wrong.

One hand flails out and grabs the glasses sitting on the table beside him.

… Those aren't his glasses. The usual thick frames are replaced with smaller wire-framed ones. They're… tasteful, he supposes, but it's odd and he's not sure he likes what's happened here.

A glance around the room tells him one thing: he's definitely not in his room. His gaze lands on the brown and white cat stretched out at the end of the bed he's in, and his confusion only mounts further.

The cat blinks back at him, and despite how ridiculous it seems to talk at a cat as if he were a programmer working out his problems by talking at a rubber duck, he figures he's alone and there's no harm to it as he sits up, absentmindedly running a hand over the burn-scarred symbol on his leg with a grimace.

"What in the world is going on?"

The cat doesn't respond, obviously, as it's a cat, though Logan supposes that if they're still in the Imagination, anything is possible. He frowns slightly, finally taking in the medieval room around him.

What did Roman do this time?


	2. Logan

By now, Logan's deduced that either this _isn't _the Imagination, or something is horribly wrong, as it's impossible for him to sink out. By all means, that shouldn't be possible, and while it was just confusing at first, it's begun to get worrisome. Something isn't right, and Logan needs to figure out what exactly is going on. Talking it out using the cat hasn't been any help, but he's still been doing it, regardless of how stupid and silly it looks. He refuses to admit to himself that it's pretty entertaining, despite how useless it seems.

"Perhaps Roman or Remus closed off the Imagination to prevent anyone from leaving?" He frowns at the cat, who merely blinks up at him. "But there doesn't seem to be any motive for that. I suppose Remus doesn't _need _a reason, but still. If that were the case, Roman could easily take care of it."

The cat just blinks again. Logan blinks back.

"Of course, that's not taking into account the fact that Roman might not be able to take care of it." He shifts uncomfortably under the cat's scrutinizing gaze. "That shouldn't be an issue, but…"

It's very possible that Roman is injured in some way, or incapacitated, or overpowered by his brother. Logan decidedly chooses not to pursue that train of thought. Roman is capable, especially when in the Imagination. He's evenly matched with Remus (he thinks), which means a 50-50 chance of him being fine. Not the best odds, but not awful either.

_He could be hurt, you never know. _A voice that isn't his sounds out from no discernable source.

"Don't say that," Logan mutters, then freezes, gaze pivoting towards the cat.

It blinks at him innocently.

"... That's... not possible." Logan stares at the cat, brow furrowing.

_We're in the Imagination, anything's possible. _The voice sounds again, the cat tilting its head at him. _I'm not an 'it', by the way._

Okay, the cat's reading his thoughts, now? Or is it something else? Logan's _very _confused and a little irritated that there's a _telepathic cat talking to him right now._

_Yeah, your thoughts are all over the place. Reign 'em in a bit, buddy. _It - she? He? They? They yawn. _It's 'she', thanks for asking in a weird indirect way._

"Okay, so you can communicate with me. Care to explain why?" Logan taps his fingers against the table, still staring at the cat.

_Hells if I know._

"Helpful."

_Haha, just kidding, I do know. I'm your familiar. We can talk because of that. It's cool. Any more exposition you want me to provide? I know that's usually your job, the whole exposition thing._

"Well, that was uncalled for," Logan snaps, "but I do have a couple questions."

_Yeah, I know. You've got a ton. I can't answer most of them, I just know the Creator is behind most of it._

"Roman." It's the logical answer. Logan sighs. "He could've asked us before throwing us into this."

_He doesn't really seem like the asking type, from what I can tell. _The cat licks a paw and draws it over one ear. _Can you stop calling me "the cat"?_

"Do you have a name, then?" Logan raises an eyebrow, fingers still tapping aggressively against the table's surface. He doesn't like not knowing things.

The cat looks a bit bashful, for the first time in these few short minutes they've known each other _… no._

"Ah. Apologies. Is there one you think you'd… like?" Oh god, sentient creatures and feelings.

_Not… really. Any ideas? _The cat still looks pretty embarrassed, which is some incredible emotional range on an animal's face.

Logan's gaze darts around the room, searching for ideas. He's not good at coming up with things, considering that's more Roman's expertise. His eyes land on the deep blue cloak thrown over the back of a chair, the speckles of silver on the underside catching his eye.

"Stella," he blurts out. His face reddens a bit as he explains, "It means 'star'."

_Huh. _She blinks at him again. _I like it. We'll go with that, then._

"Oh. Well." Logan clears his throat, not sure why he's so surprised. "Good."

Stella lets out a sound that seems incredibly amused, and Logan glares at her. He doesn't need to be mocked by a magical cat, thank you.

"So. You said you were a… familiar." Logan frowns. "What exactly does that entail?"

Stella stretches out across the end of the bed, claws digging into the blanket. _I'm pretty much just your magical pet, since you're a wizard._

"... excuse me?" Of course Roman would do this, throw all of them into a fantasy world and give them standard "adventurer" capabilities.

_Yeah, you pretty much hit the nail on the head. The Creator specifically crafted me to be your familiar. Doesn't matter what form I take. _Stella yawns. _Also, I'm a fey creature, if that's important to you._

"I don't really know what that means, but noted." Logan sits, frowning. "So, if I'm a-" he wrinkles his nose "_wizard, _I'm assuming that means I can use... _magic_, somehow."

_That's how wizards work, yes._

"A little clarity never hurt anyone," Logan huffs. "How, exactly, am I able to do that?"

_You've got a spellbook, just look through that. _Stella flicks her tail towards the table, and Logan glances at the pack of… what seems to be adventuring gear.

… alright, he's intrigued. Logan picks through the backpack, pulling out a leather-bound tome. Yeah, this seems like something he would be interested in, were it possible in real life. He begins flipping through the book, spells and their instructions written out in his own handwriting. It's impressive. There's a few simple spells in the first few pages that seem like they won't take a lot of energy.

Might as well see if they work!

Logan digs around through the backpack once more, searching for anything that looks like what could be considered spell components. He finally finds a pocket filled pouch filled with what looks like… spell components! How convenient. He glances at the page again.

Dancing lights. Seems simple enough. Logan isn't sure how to identify the different components, but he might as well try it!

"_Solas tóirse,_" he mutters, smearing some (what he hopes is) phosphorus in a spiral on the palm of his hand like the book says to, and--

Four little flames appear, and if Logan focuses, he can…

They twirl around each other, before floating wherever Logan directs them. If he's being totally honest, this is… pretty cool. Magic that he has to work for. It's interesting, and it involves learning, which Logan is always fond of, and the fantasy aspect is pretty appealing. He could _maybe _understand why Roman enjoys these worlds so much. Then again, Roman seems to like them for the monsters and the chivalrous acts, not the tedious, complex magical systems.

The tiniest of smiles tugs at his lips as he snuffs out the flames, finally noticing how the spiral of phosphorus had been burned away.

With a bit more reading and experimenting with his components, Logan finally decides that he's probably prepared himself enough for whatever trouble he might come across and he places the spellbook back into a safe pocket on the pack of adventuring gear.

_Do you hear that?_

He glances down at Stella, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

She jumps up onto the windowsill, tail flicking back and forth. _That squeaky growling?_

He falls silent, staring out the window and furrowing his brow as he listens. "I mean, I would say you're more likely to hear something than I. You have far superior hearing."

_Right. Yes. Forgot about that. It sounds like there's a lot of animals making that sound, though. _She looks as nervous as a cat can look.

Logan approaches the window, still listening intently, pushing the window open so he can lean outside of it a small bit.

He's momentarily distracted from his task at the sight before him.

Beautiful in their simplicity and charm, wooden houses line not-quite-even cobblestone streets, the patchwork of buildings quirky and resourceful in their own way. Signs hang above doors and windows are wide open, and Logan can see all sorts of people going about their days. A woman across the street, on the third floor of her building, puts out clothes to dry - her hair pulled back beneath a bonnett, a simple white apron thrown over a brown dress. She looks… incredibly real, despite the pointed ears, and Logan is a bit in awe.

A horse-drawn cart passes by on the street below, a young man at the reins. Unlit streetlights line the streets, oil lanterns hanging from them. The amount of care and detail placed into what seems to be a tiny town is… honestly incredible.

_Get your head out of the clouds and **listen.**_ Stella hisses, ears flicking back.

"Right, right. I was just… a bit distracted." Logan leans out the window a bit more, listening intently for whatever sound Stella is so worried about.

They stand there for a few minutes, before Logan finally pulls back with a shake of his head. "I don't hear anything, but if you believe it is truly an issue, just let me know if anything changes."

The cat paces on the windowsill, tail lashing, ears pricked forward. _It doesn't sound good, whatever it is._

"Well, it is not our problem just yet." Logan frowns, pulling together all of the stuff that seems to be his, now. "I'm going to get dressed and go downstairs, if you'd like to join me."

_I don't know if I want to deal with whatever that sound is. _She flops down onto the bed.

Logan huffs. "You're the one who's so worried about it."

_Yeah- well- _Her ears go flat, and Logan just smirks. _Fuck you._

"Language," he chides on instinct as if it were Remus, scooping up the robes tossed over the back of the chair. "Now, if you don't mind turning around…"

He gets dressed easily enough. It's not his usual attire, but it's formal enough to where he's comfortable. There's no armor, which is surprising considering the nature of Roman's creations. Hopefully he won't need any, anyways. He'd like to get out of here before the need to fight anything arises. Stella leaps up onto his shoulders once he's done without any sort of warning, draping herself around his neck like a scarf.

"Warn someone before you do that," Logan mutters, making his way downstairs.

The entire town, from what Logan has seen, has had plenty of early European influences in its design. Primarily English, French, and Irish, though part of him wonders about other parts of this fantasy setting. He quickly abandons that train of thought, attention turning to the young woman behind the bar.

A book is splayed open on the counter in front of her, the words in a language Logan can't name, but is sure he knows. Her hair is thrown up into an unkempt brown bun, a stained apron thrown over simple clothing. She glances up at him, before looking back down at her book, before doing a double take. Logan raises an eyebrow as she stares at him, frowning slightly.

"... can I help you?" He finally breaks the silence, and she jumps a bit, as if she hadn't realized she'd been staring.

"I - uh, sorry, it's just - you look so similar to this elven fellow that passed through this morning. Same face, hair, eyes." Her gaze flicks to Logan's left, just to the side of his eyes.

"Oh?" Logan blinks. "Did you happen to catch his name?"

She shakes her head. "'Fraid not. Would probably be rude to give it to you anyway."

"That's fair," Logan mutters, glancing out the window. "Did you see which way he went when he left?"

She squints at him. "May I ask what your relation to him is? I'd rather not be giving someone he's trying to avoid any help."

Logan hesitates, then - "He's a very good friend of mine. Since childhood."

She squints at him a moment longer, and then - "He took a right, when he left."

He manages a smile. "Thank you, Miss…?"

"Just Matilda is fine. No problem." She shrugs.

"Matilda." He pauses, gaze flicking to her book once more. "What are you reading?"

Matilda's hands immediately fly to the book, and she flips it to the cover. He's not sure what the language is, but he knows it - _Rishatfa'aya._

"O-oh. Uh. It's Feyfeather. An Elvish translation. I'm better with it than Common." She looks a bit sheepish, ducking her head.

"No, no, I… uh. Understand." He fumbles with his words, frowning slightly.

It's a language he's never seen before, yet he understands it. That's… odd. He's not opposed to it, but it's still unusual. He finally notes the girl's slightly pointed ears. As if the magic wasn't enough. He's not surprised, to be honest.

"Well. Anything else I can do for you?" She toys with the corner of a page, raising an eyebrow.

"No, thank you." He hesitates, then, as he's turning to leave, "Have a nice day."

He catches sight of her tiny, amused, lopsided grin out of the corner of his eye as he leaves, Stella curling backwards a bit to peer back at her as they leave. Her tail flicks Logan's nose, and he huffs. "Stop that."

_Probably shouldn't talk to me out in public, it looks weird. _The cat lets out a _mrrrow_, leaning back to rest her chin on Logan's shoulder.

"I could really care less, none of these people are real," he murmurs as he takes a right, still examining the streets around him as he paces over the cobblestones.

It's… incredible. It may not be real, but it certainly _looks _it. Roman did an outstanding job. It's a bit difficult to focus on the task of _finding _whichever one of his friends is nearby when he's so distracted by the buzzing world around him, though Stella manages to keep him mostly on task. She almost fails when a small library comes into sight, but thankfully his attention is redirected at the sound of bells ringing and raised voices towards what seems to be the center of town.

People begin perking up, murmurs filling the semi-crowded streets around him, and Logan begins following the sound.

His blood runs cold at the whispers of an execution.

Stella digs her claws in as Logan begins weaving through the thicker crowd towards the town square, managing to push to the front.

Gallows stand tall in the center of the cobblestone square, a bell dangling from a rope. A man with pointed ears seems to have just finished giving a speech that Logan hadn't quite caught, as cheers erupt around him just as he makes it to the front. 

There's a frantic scrabbling sound as the crowd towards Logan's left begins to part, and a purple-skinned creature is dragged across the cobblestones, bare cloven hooves scratching against them. A tail lashes behind the creature - or… young man, it seems, from the dark purple hair tangled and greasy hanging in his face. Two horns curl back from his head.

He's clearly panicking, and Logan can only stare as the poor man is hauled towards the gallows, hands pinned behind him by silver handcuffs. He tosses his head backwards, and Logan can see the gag in his mouth and-

He goes still, staring.

The eyes are a familiar shade of brown. No pupils or iris, just solid, dark brown, a mirror of Logan's own. The purple itself is a familiar shade, that of a tattered shirt under a worn and well-loved hoodie. The tell-tale smudges of black are still there, unmistakable.

_Virgil._

Logan realizes that he's holding his breath, and that Stella was saying something. "We have to do something," he murmurs, voice hoarse.

_How? There's nothing we can do for him, he's fucked._ Stella doesn't seem to like the idea of that, though, her paws working at the fabric on Logan's shoulder.

He doesn't bother to chide her for the language, considering what's going on. "Well we can't just stand here and _watch_." He hisses under his breath, and he glances away from Virgil, gaze sweeping across the crowd.

Another pair of familiar eyes meet his gaze, and Logan tenses again. The curl of the hair and the sword at the man's hip is familiar. His tell-tale red sash goes from one shoulder to his hip, albeit it's a bit fancier looking. _Roman._

He looks just as panicked as Logan feels, and he begins pushing his way around the crowd, still keeping an eye on Virgil as he struggles against the men attempting to drag him to his death. Roman seems to be doing the same, skirting the very edge of the crowd.

The two meet in the middle, and Logan's hand immediately takes Roman's shoulder. "You have all of the power here, _do something_."

Roman, for once, doesn't bite back with some snarky comment like "not even a hello?" and instead looks rather terrified, fingers curling into his sash. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? This is your entire world, it'd be simple enough." It doesn't make sense. Logan's still trying to come up with something, gaze flicking between Roman and Virgil. Virgil is thrown against the stones, letting out a muffled cry, and both Roman and Logan cringe at the sight of dark red trickling down from Virgil's forehead.

"I just _can't_, Logan. My powers aren't working." Roman sounds helpless, and Logan doesn't snap this time.

"They aren't?" His voice comes out frantic, which wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he's too scared to care much about appearances. He has no idea what will actually happen if Virgil dies. He doesn't know if they _can _die.

As if reading his thoughts, Roman turns his gaze back towards Virgil. "I don't think he can die. He can get close, but he - he _can't_. I don't know if that would even work."

"We still can't let this continue. Look at him, Roman." Logan glances over again, stomach churning at the sight of him.

Bloody, bruised, and crying, Virgil's chest jerks with uneven breaths, and he seems to be losing energy, his fight against the guards weakening. The crowd keeps letting out appraising sounds every time he gets slapped or slammed against the ground or the gallows, and rage burns under Logan's skin, white-hot and familiar.

He can hardly hear the executioner over the blood roaring in his ears, but he catches the word _demon _and _vile _and _evil _and the pitiful sob Virgil chokes out around the gag, and Logan's blood boils.

Roman looks rightly horrified, and Logan can't think of anything to _do. _He wracks his brain for any of the spells he'd just taught himself.

_Message him. Reassure him. He can't help himself at all in the state he's in. _Stella is sitting up on his shoulder now, peering at Virgil, tail lashing behind her (similar to Virgil's own).

Logan fumbles for the components in the pouch at his hip. He curls the copper wire around his finger, cupping the hand around his mouth and whispering _"Dúirt sé."_

"Virgil," he murmurs, and Virgil's muscles tense and his head snaps up, "you're going to be alright. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. We're going to get you out of there."

_That was good. Proper form. Nice casting. _He doesn't need Stella's approval, but it is nice. He's a bit preoccupied with putting together a shitty plan, relaxing a bit as Virgil's chest heaves with the effort of sucking in a breath around the gag. Good.

Logan turns towards Roman. "I'm going to paralyze the guards. If we can make it seem like there's some sort of attack, that may cause enough chaos to let us get him."

Roman's fingers work the hilt of his sword uncertainly. "Will that work?"

"Only one way to find out," Logan says, expression grim, and Roman takes a deep breath.

"Okay. What, er, what should I do?" His hand wraps around the hilt of his sword. Logan pauses.

"... once we're close, incapacitate the two guards and the executioner. I can only really weaken them. If we get them out of the picture, it makes things much easier." He's rather uncomfortable with the idea of hurting anyone, even if they're not real, but…

The way they're treating Virgil enrages him all over again. He reaches for the iron rod in his pouch, cringing as a guard slams Virgil's head against the gallows - he's started fighting again, though. The resounding crack makes the breath catch in his throat. The crowd lets out a cheer, and Logan has to stop himself from turning and punching the first gleeful face he sees.

Just as Logan draws the iron along his arm, there's a shriek from the opposite side of the square, and the beating pauses, everyone's attention diverted for a moment. More shrill cries and shouts of alarm sound, and the executioner leaps down from the gallows, grabbing Virgil by the handcuffs and yanking him up, saying something to the guards as he does so. They draw their blades and Logan lets out an awful, horrified sound, but the guards don't skewer Virgil or do anything of the sort, instead rushing off and pushing through the crowd.

They can't see what's going on over there, but the crowd has begun to shift as panic sets in, and finally people begin streaking through the clear spot in the center where the gallows is, and there's an opening. Logan stuffs the components back into the pouch, and Roman rushes ahead of him as they make their way towards Virgil.

Logan lets out a yelp of alarm as claws suddenly rake across his arm, and Stella gives a yowl of surprise as a feathered creature slams into Logan. He ducks away from its snapping, toothy beak, and Stella hisses, fur standing on end.

_Cockatrice. _The word sends a cold shiver down Logan's spine. _Don't let it bite you, it'll turn you to stone._

As if he weren't worried enough.


End file.
